Tears In Heaven
by Aardvark-Alice
Summary: The rather unfortunate events that lead to Erandur's sudden switch in identity, as well as the fall of Nightcaller Temple and releasing of the Miasma. Short one-shot.


The air was rife with crackling magic, the sound of steel against flesh, and blood-curdling screams and battle-cries. Casimir's brain whirled with fear and shock as he stood with Brother Thorek and Brother Veren, who were discussing the next plans, though were muffled somewhat as his ears swelled with blood. Though he was a patient person, this was certainly no time to stand and discuss what to do: a large band of Orcs had just barged into the Temple and started killing his brethren of Vaermina worshippers, like himself. He looked over to the Skull of Corruption, a protective barrier of dark magic swirling around it. This was the reason there was so much death, a skull. Well, that skull being a powerful artefact of the Daedric Prince of Nightmares that feeds off of dreams and memories, but it was still... It was a skull.

He looked back to his brothers, trying his best to focus on what they saying, his head still spinning. "The Orcs have breached the inner sanctum, Brother Veren," Brother Thorek began, a slight urgency to his voice. The noise of battles tingled in the background, spiking the back of Casimir's head as the Nord spoke.  
"We must hold. We can't allow the Skull to fall into their hands," Veren growled, very assertively. He was a Dunmer, like Casimir, and a very stubborn, strong-willed one at that. He stayed by Casimir's side when he first started worship here, to now, with the Orcs tearing through his brothers, his sisters... His family. "But..." Thorek stumbled to find the words to say, "No more than a handful of us remain." A silent shiver of fear spread through the three of them as Thorek spoke, but was soon cut through by Brother Veren.  
"Then we have no choice," he asserted, "The Miasma must be released."  
Casimir swallowed, trying to get rid of the hard lump in his throat that had formed as the clashing of swords got louder. He could feel the same fear radiate off of Brother Thorek at the mention of The Miasma, his head shaking ever so slightly as he searched for the words to say. "The Miasma?" He questioned, his tone filled with a horrible mix of shock and dread. "But, Brother-!"  
"We have _no alternative_," Veren stressed, a small growl rumbling in the back of his throat. He then continued with a softer voice that held a hint of pain. "It's the will of Vaermina." He sucked in a sharp sigh through his teeth, trying to make a sound to distract them from the sound of death only through the wall behind them. He then shot up his gaze to Casimir, his eyes dull with sombreness. "And what about you, Brother Casimir? Are you prepared to serve the will of Vaermina?"

Casimir felt his stomach turn in fear. There was too much going on, and it made his head spin and his heart rise in his throat, much like the feeling he got when he found out about Daedra killing his brother during the Oblivion Crisis struck, and when he received news of Vvardenfell getting completely destroyed by the Red Mountain eruption. His province, his hometown, his family... Gone. And that's what was happening now: his family, his world of worship to Vaermina, crashing and burning in a matter of minutes. But this time, he had to be strong, for his brothers and sisters. He had to be fearless. Casimir took a deep breath and nodded, puffing out his chest a little bit as he did. "I have made my peace," he replied as reassuringly he could, though his voice was still cracking with apprehension. Veren nodded definitely, though his tone was somewhat hushed, "Then it's decided." A short lull fell over the trio as they silently gathered their thoughts. This was it, the decision was made, written in memories that Vaermina may feed from in the future. Brother Veren let out a soft sigh before continuing, louder this time and his eyes showing no fear whatsoever, "Brother Casimir, you must activate the barrier and release the Miasma. Let nothing stop you. Brother Thorek, we must remain here and guard this Skull with our lives if necessary."  
"Agreed. To the death," the Nord grunted, pushing the words out, painfully coming to terms with the inevitable. Casimir just nodded silently, eyes downcast as he put on a facade of composed agreement. He had always been the calm one out of the three.

"Then let it be done," Veren spoke the final words between the three, "Farewell, my brothers."  
Not looking up, Casimir turned and briskly walked away, the sound of fighting growing as he neared the doorway. He cast a muffle spell on himself as he quickened his pace, sticking to the shadows as he jogged down a long corridor, Brother Veren's instructions resonating in his mind._Let nothing stop you,_Casimir heard him say, as he took a turning into the main common area. Clinging to darkness, he looked up at the dining table, where he used to share meals with the good company of his fellow Vaermina worshippers. But as he moved around a pillar, he had to throw his hand over his mouth to stop a gasp escaping as he watched a sister writhe under the choking grasp of an of Orc invader. He pinned her to the tabletop by the neck with one, gripping hand, and held an axe in the other, and as he raised his arm up, the priestess let out a stifled scream, flailing her limbs around more for an escape. Casimir gritted his teeth hard and cast his vision away rapidly, flinching violently as the thud of metal slicing live flesh reached his ears. "Sister Anirne," he breathed, frozen to the spot with fear. That was it for her life. The end. Gone.

He willed himself to look up and watch the Orsimer that killed his sister and fellow worshipper. The brute spat on her body, before turning away to rifle through a cupboard of wine. Casimir seized the chance to dash through the corridor, unfortunately catching a glimpse of Anirne's bloodied corpse. Though, he wasn't given enough time to register how horrifying this was to him, because as soon as he ran into the corridor, he ran into a scuffle between another Orc and a Vaermina worshipper. Forcing himself up against the wall, he sucked in his stomach and slithered past, before continuing to run, wincing at the sound of his brother's war-cry and the smell of burning flesh. But as he turned his attention off of them, he found himself in the large, unfortunately well-lit sleeping area, and his sights turned to the four clusters of battling, as well as several bodies strewn on the floor. The sight shot needles through his heart, seeing his family taken away from him so brutally. The blood... There was so much _blood_. He found his attention snatched up to the closest group as one of his brother's skull cracked loudly from underneath an Orcish warhammer, making Casimir whimper quietly. It was Brother Ynbelt, and next to him was Brother Faelnir, who launched himself at the attacker, though was soon cut short by a strike to the ribs, his ribs crunching at contact as he was thrown into the wall before his body crumpled into a heap on the ground. The Orc quickly moved onto another fight, leaving Casimir some time to run up the stairs and get to the lever. But as he took a step out, he caught Faelnir's hand curling up, and heard the hint of a groan over the clattering of steel and hissing of magic. On instinct, the Dunmer hurriedly sneaked to his side and knelt, turning his tiny body up so he could see his face.

"I'm here, Faelnir," Casimir reassured him, slipping shaking hand under his neck and focusing a healing spell the other hand over his side. The Bosmer looked at him, a mild, cracked smile forming on his face, tears streaming down his face. "Peace, Brother Casimir... I go to the Quagmire now," he whispered, through grunts of pain. The Dunmer found his own eyes welling up as he held his fellow worshipper, the healing spell in his hand as intense as he could get it. Moments of the times they spent together flashed up in his mind and he we watched Faelnir's eyes grow more distant, and heard his breathing become shallower and increasingly unsteady. Casimir brought his face closer, his mind becoming more of a panic than it already was, "Stay with me, brother," he spoke in a hurried, hushed tone, trying his best not to raise awareness of himself but his voice growing increasingly shaky from the fright he felt for Faelnir. The Bosmer, now breaking out into a cold sweat, suddenly burst into a violent coughing fit, blood starting to bubble in his throat and choke him, his expression now one of pure despair. Casimir shed a few tears as the unusually small Bosmer he spent most of his time with in the temple began to slip away, his trembling body suddenly ceasing as blood trickled out the corners of his mouth. He had passed.

Casimir was not given any time to mourn right then, however, as he noticed a shadow from behind him. He turned his body abruptly, as if on a reflex, to see the killer of his Bosmeri friend stretched up above him, his warhammer behind his head and ready to bring it down onto the Dunmer's small, fragile self. Almost instantaneously, Casimir dived between the Orsimer's legs and swerved onto the staircase, sprinting and clawing up the steps to get away from death. He felt the Orc was hot on his trail when he got to the top, skidding to the right and carrying on sprinting towards the Miasma control. Lights and colours zoomed past him, everything but a pinpoint directly in front of him becoming a blur. Now seeing in complete tunnel-vision, he ran purely on instinct, turning at points mapped out on a subconscious route in his mind, the blind spaces of his sight now filled with the burnt images of his brothers and sisters dying, of the Orcs' intimidating war faces and of Faelnir... Poor, poor, Faelnir... In the state he was just before he died. Casimir head throbbed hurtfully with frenzy, his heart sat like lead in his chest and his stomach twisted into a sickly knot and tears distorted his vision even more. As he entered a twisting corridor, he felt his shoulder collide with another, throwing him off balance and into a pillar. He felt a fist grasp his collar and pull him off the wall, Casimir's fearful anticipation of death making him freeze up.

"_Casimir?_" A subdued voice drummed against his ear drums, making it feel like his ears were full of water or blood. "Casimir!"  
Casimir's senses adjusted back into the world, he saw that the person who was grabbing him was actually Brother Frandre, a Breton worshipper, and that the Orc was fried to a crisp on the floor. He noticed his breathing was rapid, and his skin puckered with goose-bumps. He at the Breton and uttered some sort of response that he couldn't hear himself say, but it seemed enough to tell the man he was listening. Frandre continued, knowing already that he was running back to release the Miasma, "Run and don't look back. Gods' speed, and farewell brother." He gave him a curt nod of the head, before quickly turning and leaving the opposite way to where Casimir was running to. Now alone, the Dunmer set off hurriedly down the last corridor to get to the Miasma trigger. As he ran, fear began to encroach on his mind, beginning to rerun snippets of spoken words from the near-past.

_No more than a handful of us remain... We have no choice, the Miasma must be released... Agreed, to the death... _Rewinds of words spoken earlier played in his head, getting louder and louder as all the sounds around him faded, apart from a pulse thumping in his ears. He approached the pull ring and the automatically set soul gem that went off with it, skidding to a halt in front of it and reaching his hands up to pull it. Though, he found his hands hovering when Frandre's last message to him replayed vividly.  
_Run and don't look back._  
Anxiety was pumping through his veins and crippling his brain when he realised something: he wasn't _ready_to sleep. Taking a last, deep breath before holding it, he followed his flight instinct, and yanked down hard on the trigger before fleeing for the exit. The barrier formed just as he bounded through the archway, a purple glow lighting up behind him and making a shadow of himself appear in front of him. That was it: no turning back. He continued to run, holding onto his breath as a murky gas filtered into the Temple from the ceiling. His whole sense of self started malfunctioning and tears streamed down his cheeks as he realised his treachery. His lungs ached as he neared the ghost-like rock that usually concealed the entrance to the sanctuary, his home, running straight through it before throwing back a quick spell to close it. He glanced back as he ran, seeing the stone symbol of Vaermina grow further and further away from him as he ran closer and closer to the door of the Temple. Turning back, he only needed to take a couple of steps more until he able to force the door open against the howling blizzard outside and burst out of the temple.

Banging the door shut behind him, he slammed his back against it, pressing up to it as closely as he can before slowly sliding down into a seated position, his knees pressed up against his chest. His breathing was rapid and shallow, growing uneven as painful shivers shot down his veins and physical exhaustion finally caught up with him. Though, he wasn't cold... Just frightened. His bones began to ache with guilt as emotions racked his body, clamping his ribs in an icy grip as The Pale's winds lapped at Casimir's hair, making them wave and whip around his face. He tried his best to collect together some form of rational, or even _understandable_, thought about what happened. Though, all he could see when he blinked was his brothers and sisters dying around him and the colours that shot by him as he ran, betrayal in every step he took. He bit hard on the inside of his lip as he began to cry, his muscles tensing agonizingly from cold, physical exertion, and emotional burden. Guilt and self-hate loomed over his curled up form as he wept, mourning the loss of his brothers and sisters, as well as the shame he felt for fleeing and leaving his family behind to sleep. Even with the survivors in there were, at the moment, protected by the Miasma, there were side-effects: madness, delusions, even _death_. The thought made him ball himself up tighter. He might have just sent some of his brothers and sisters, which had a chance of running out and living, to die in their sleep. His lip began to bleed as his teeth clamped into it, his sobs growing heavier and his trembles growing fiercer. But as he wept, he found the calming voice of Faelnir enter his mind and speak to him.

_Peace, Brother Casimir._

And that was what Casimir needed. Peace. And he certainly wasn't going to get that by worshipping the Daedric Price of dreams and nightmares. No, he needed a deity who was benevolent, who would teach him to be kind and giving, and maybe, _just maybe_, forgive him for the betrayal he committed. He looked up to the skies, wiping away the now-cold tears on his face."Mara..." Casimir muttered, blinking out the remaining tears that he felt in his eyes. He then raised his voice a little, so he could hear himself over the wind, "Lady Mara!" He pushed himself onto his weakened legs, and staggered out into the blizzard, down the hill and towards Dawnstar. He tried his best to fill himself up with hope, talking to the only company he had: himself.

"Let's completely start again, turn a new leaf. I need a new identity a new name..." He furrowed his brow as he thought hard for a name. He couldn't use the name Casimir anymore, it carried too much of a burden to hear every time someone wanted his attention. But he couldn't just forget his past before his Priesthood, the few precious years he spent in Morrowind were good ones, surrounded by a friendly community and a happy, caring family... "Family name, that's it! Rendaru. Well, that's not really a first name. Maybe if I rearrange it..." The Dunmer pondered for a minute, pushing through the snow as he thought. Many combinations of rearranged letters played on his lips as he mouthed them out, even saying some aloud to hear if they sounded good, until finally came up with one. "Erandur," he decided, only just being able to hear his voice over the howl of the winds. Looking up, he could just make out the road into Dawnstar stretch out in front of him. He looked back up at the Temple, sorrow flickering in his eyes, before heading down the road, the guilt still hanging over his head like a pitch-black cloud.

_Peace, Brother Casimir._ Rang in his mind as he walked.


End file.
